The Two of Us

by Taylor Torres

A sickening wave of bile burns at my throat knowing I’m only one swipe away from Alima’s voice. From the woman who treated me like her own daughter. The woman whose life I’ve tragically altered forever.

Tally throws me a look of disgust before facing Ambrose. “Who are you?” Ambrose drags his eyes away from where I sit and leans in for a handshake with a friendly smile. “I’m Ambrose.” Recognition fills Tally’s eyes and I want to drag her away before she says something that will make me sink farther into my chair. I widen my eyes at her and to my relief, she makes her face unreadable. “Ambrose. Hmm. I’ve never heard of you.” Ambrose laughs. “And who are you?” “Her best friend,” she says, jutting a thumb at me.

“I waited for you,” he rasps. “I’m still waiting for you. But you gotta meet me halfway.” He searches my face with a look of desperation as his thumb brushes the side of my jaw. “Can you meet me halfway, baby?” When my silence prevails, his hand drops down to his side. “You’re a coward,” he whispers, voice gravelly. “And I won’t erase her from my life just because it hurts.” He starts to leave but stops at the kitchen’s entrance, his face grim. “She wouldn’t have wanted this for us, Mara. Do you remember the night of prom at Lake Bonnie? Do you remember what she said?” I remember everything. “She said the three of us were soul mates. And it’s the truth. It’s always been the truth.”

“Talk to me.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” I spin around. “This,” I whisper-hiss, pointing between us, “is not a thing. We are not a thing.” “Bullshit.” I scoff. “I can barely stand you half the time.” He takes a step toward me, eyes blazing, and drops his voice to a whisper. “Is that so?”

“Mara?” “Hmm?” “Why are you always taking such good care of me?” I smile. “Because we’re sisters.” She sighs a happy sigh. “That’s nice. I love Ambrose but I’ve always wanted a sister.” “Well, you got one,” I whisper. She starts to speak again but I stop her. “Shh,” I say, brushing the hair from her face. “Sleep.”

“Is there something going on between you and that Jensen guy?” My laugh is clipped. “Why? Are you jealous?” “Yes.” Ambrose faces me head-on, his expression serious. “Yes, I am.”

“I forgive you.” His eyes widen slightly at that. “But I’m also going to make you work for it,” I tack on for good measure. His eyes are so serious when he says, “You better.” Blowing out a weary breath, I lean into him. “I think we might love each other.” He pulls me into his chest and chuckles softly, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I think you might be right.”

I’m not there when Cat dies that night. I don’t know what time it happens. I don’t know if it hurts. I don’t know if she cries out for me or if the last thing she feels in this world is my absence. I don’t know if it’s long and drawn out or as quick as falling asleep. I don’t know any of that because I’m with Ambrose.

Ambrose says I’m a coward but I’m worse. I’m the reason Cat’s dead. I knew she had a bad fall on her head and I told her to go to sleep. I told her to fucking go to sleep. I knew better. I know better. It’s Head Injury 101. And then I left her side to fulfill my selfish desires. It’s a decision that’s haunted me for years.

Only when the garments were reduced to ashes beneath the logs did I let the tears flow. It was the last time I cried.

“I’m sorry.” My eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more of myself before now. Before you got sick.” “You’ve given me the best thing a father could ask for.” I lean back, searching his face. “What?” “You gave me a daughter who loved me.”

“Can I ask something of you?” “Anything, Dad.” I sniff. I would do anything for him at this moment, I realize. But his request is simple. “Watch a movie with me.” I smile so wide my jaw feels stretched. Salty tears fall into my mouth as I reach for my laptop. “What should we watch?” “Princess Bride. It’s one of my favorites.” My smile is watery. “Since when?” “Since it became one of your favorites.”

My dad dies on a Wednesday. He dies at peace, free of pain, and asleep in my arms. He dies loved, surrounded by people who thought the world of him.

I firmly believe that wherever my dad ends up, Cat’s there waiting for him. She’ll greet him with her arms open wide and insist on giving him the grand tour. They’re each other’s keepers now.

“There are things… I need to work through, Ambrose. And I can’t give myself to you until I take the time to work through them.” He’s quiet for a minute before nodding. “I’m a patient man.” Blood rushes through my ears and I drop my forehead to his chest. “Why?” “Because I love you, Mara.” My eyes fly to his and his smile is sad and hopeful all at once. “Don’t look so surprised.” “Still?” “Always.”

“I’ve loved you since the day you knocked on my front door with that godforsaken cat in your arms.” I choke out a warbled laugh and his voice becomes rough with emotion. “I’ve loved you since that kiss outside of Old Maple and I’ve loved you since we both lost the person we loved the most. I loved you then and I love you now. And if you’ll have me… I’ll love you until my last breath.” My tears fall freely now. “You’re the love of my life, Mara, but you’re my best friend too. I like you as much as I love you. I could have a million lifetimes with you and it still wouldn’t be enough. So, take your time.”

“I—” “Don’t say it.” My face falls. “What? Why not?” “Because when you say those three words,” he says, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip, “I want to see our future in your eyes. Not our past.” I nod even though it feels like my heart is breaking. “I’m going to come back,” I whisper. “I sw...

“Healing isn’t linear, Mara,” Mitsu says. “Some days it’s five steps forward and other days it’s seven steps back. There’s no finish line. The goal is just to keep stepping.”

“It’s called kintsugi.” I repeat the word back to her and she nods. “It’s the art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold,” she says. “The idea behind it is that even when something’s broken, we can always put it back together. And when we put it back together and embrace those cracks of imperfection, it’s even stronger and more beautiful than before.”

It’s a digital receipt for a flight to Bangor, Maine. Something that feels close to hope works its way through my chest and a sigh of relief escapes me. “Oh,” I whisper. I glance up at Tally with watery eyes, only to find that hers have a similar sheen to them. “And it’s one-way.” Her voice shakes.

Many people go through life without having a friendship as life-changing and sacred as the one I had with Cat. But even fewer people get to experience a friendship like that twice. To say I’m one of the lucky ones is a severe understatement.

We just finished watching Practical Magic and Cat can’t get over the scene where Sally and Gillian cut their hands to make a blood oath. It’s an act that binds two people together forever. A promise of sorts.

“Wait!” Her expression is serious. “Promise me something.” “What?” “Promise me…” She scrunches her nose in thought. “Promise me that no matter what, it’ll always be the two of us.” I grin, squeezing our clasped hands. “The two of us. I promise.”

Sally: I feel like I’m never gonna see you again. Gilly: Of course, you’re gonna see me again, we’re gonna grow old together! It’s gonna be you and me. Living in a big house, these two old biddies with all these cats. I mean, I bet we even die on the same day!

“When the fog cleared enough for me to realize how I must have made you feel, you were already gone. Your dad wouldn’t tell me how to get ahold of you.” “I thought you blamed me,” I whisper. “I blamed me.” Alima shakes her head, her expression solemn. “I could never blame you, Mara. I could never blame someone Cat loved so much. You were like a daughter to me. You still are.”

“They made it clear that she wouldn’t have made it that night, whether she was alone or not. There wasn’t anything you could have done, sweetheart. If you leave here today learning one thing, it needs to be that.”

“That’s where Cat’s ashes are,” Alima whispers, tilting her head toward the tree. I want to be buried under a huge tree. The biggest tree. So everyone can come and rest under me.

Catherine Marie King Jan. 13, 1995 - May 13, 2013 Our beloved daughter, sister, and best friend May we always look forward to tomorrow like you. I trace the indentation of the words best friend repeatedly. It’s a small gift, one I’m not even sure Alima realizes she gave me. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, Gilly,” I whisper.

I turn to head back to the house when a myriad of colorful fractals dance over my body. I glance above me and gasp. Hanging from a low branch is the suncatcher I got for Cat when I was in Paris. It sways in the wind, painting the ground in Technicolor, and my heart soars. It’s the best place my gift could have ended up. I grin and tap the cat-shaped suncatcher with my finger, watching it sway in the light. “Bye, Kitty Cat.”

“Because the changed version of me still loves the changed version of you. I’m in love with you, Ambrose.“ I take a step closer, my voice shaking. “I’ve loved you since the moment I knocked on your door with that godforsaken cat in my arms.” My eyes water as I repeat his words. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

“Hold on,” he says, his voice rough from unshed tears. “If you take another step…that’s it. You’re stuck with me. So you better be sure because I can’t let you go again. I won’t.” “You promise?” “I swear.” A sound of relief escapes me as I fly forward and our mouths collide.

He unlocks the little latch and opens it, motioning for me to come closer and take a look. That’s when I see the little mound of folded notes inside. Gathering a few in his hand, he holds them out to me. “Read them,” he says, chuckling at my confused face.

“I wanted to make a place where wishes could live forever. A place where they could be tucked away for safekeeping.” My throat constricts. He reaches into his pocket again and pulls out another key—this one tiny. I watch with curiosity as he reaches for a miniature box resting in the corner of the huge container. “Now this one.” His voice softens. “This one’s my favorite.” He places a yellowed scrap of paper in my hand and time slows. I’m convinced I’ve stopped breathing. “My mom found it in her things,” he says. “It’s from the night of the wish burning. She gave it to me last week.” I nod, unable to form the words. With shaky hands, I slowly unfold the note. And in the arms of the man I love the most, I read my best friend’s last wish.

And when a little girl knocked on our door saying she’d just moved into the house across the street, the one that looked like a lemon drop, I stood to the side, watching history repeat itself as Sol accepted her invitation to play in a familiar tree house.

I bend down to pick up my daughter with curls the same color as the wheat field before me. The same color as her aunt’s. “You ready for some cookies?” I ask, tickling her sides. Her giggles ring out into the sky and the birds chirp as if they’re singing back to her. “Cookies! Cookies!” she chants. “I love you, Mommy.” She’s generous with her I love yous when food is involved, and I can’t help but laugh. “I love you too, Gilly.”